Conquered With a Kiss
by Zayz
Summary: Sparrabeth, DMC. "And also know that while he may conquer with swords and you with your wily, womanly charms; both of you have been conquered by a kiss." R&R?


A/N: I was flipping through my Pending folder and hey, guess what I found! A Sparrabeth fic!

I went on a second person fetish a while ago and this was an obvious byproduct of the movement. I had lost the idea when I first wrote it but since it was short, I decided to finish it and post it up for you guys. For once, I actually kinda/sorta/almost like it. Even though it's cheesy and lame and overly melodramatic.

Ah, well. You're here now. Try to enjoy it, and review no matter what you think, yeah?

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Look at him.

No, don't loiter, pretending like you don't want to do this. Face up to what you know you must do.

Force yourself. Force yourself to look at him standing there, saying good-bye, looking so soft, softer than he should at the prospect of letting his beloved ship go to the bottom of the ocean.

Yearn for the right to look away, but keep your gaze locked in because you know that you deserve to feel those uneasy, churning sensations making you writhe in the pit of your stomach. Know you deserve them because what you're going to do is make him do more than just writhe like you are now.

Walk, walk over to him. Smile slightly at him, although you don't know how you manage that one, and speak, remind him of his heroic mistake; tell him that you knew he was good at heart. As if it's really that simple. As if you're not about to take cruel advantage of him.

He believes you, in his own way. Note that resignation in his eyes, and come closer to it, closer, closer, breathing him in and committing the scent to memory. He smells like rum and seawater, but there's something husky and sharp and beautiful about him too.

Wish you didn't have to do this, but then remember that you have to. There are lives to save. To be the champion, it's sometimes necessary to be the cheater. It's for the good of the crew, isn't it? And it's for the good of Will, too.

Stand here, unabashed despite the task at hand, and look him in the eye. Unlike what's going on inside you, his pretence is gone. He's pure in front of you, every sarcastic and lighthearted layer of him open and fluttering somehow in the still, heavy air to reveal that rare emotion you never see.

No tricks this time. Just him. Just a man, a man who is looking at a woman, and wondering why she's here, and afraid of believing what he suspects is her reasoning.

If only the truth didn't have to be so painful, so hidden. If only it could be revealed. But it can't, and so you don't say anything.

Now, lean into him. Hesitant, cautious, almost afraid. Close your eyes. It's not necessary to see this part. And like a temptress capturing her pray, capture his lips with yours, and fuse yourself with him, for the first time and perhaps the last.

Then nothing. A moment of nothing, a moment of surprise…a moment between moments.

But after that, when you both have realized what you've done, something stronger than all logic tears into you both. Fire boils, boils, and find yourself devoured by it, allowing it to caress you, burn you, lick you with a sadistic tongue.

Enjoy the sin as your hold increases and your lips converse in a frantic, skittering language. Apprehend the messages of startling electricity flowing through you, like you're a pathway for it, and let it impel you farther, harder, zealous and without limit.

Find, vaguely, that there's something solid behind him. Push him against it. You're breathless, but it doesn't matter, doesn't matter; because finally, he's there, all of him, and there's no time or space in you to worry about air.

Maybe it won't be true in a moment or two, but for now, revel in the want so clearly in the dance of your mouths, in the depths of his kiss. Let each kiss melt into the next, sloppy and passionate and lusty, but with so much more connecting both of you, man and woman, rebellious pirate souls.

But before finally damning him for making his final error in a life of careless coasting, make a mental record of the resignation in his exploratory tongue, in his hesitant hands, in his all-consuming movements.

Know deep within your sinful mind that because of this act, the nature of this kiss, everything about the current and essential make-up of and between the two of you will be changed forevermore.

And also know that while he may conquer with swords and you with your wily, womanly charms; both of you have been conquered by a kiss.


End file.
